Gifted
by ZevieObsessed2012
Summary: "I don't fit in... anywhere. He's a gift and a curse. He can destroy things without touching them, or being near them. He can make me do those things too… When I'm angry, he is. When I'm calm, he is. When I'm annoyed, he is. People get hurt when he loses his control…" Written in Stevie's POV. Stevie's stuck with a "gift" that she can't control and it can get out of hand. Rated T.


**A/N: Alright, hate me, hate me, hate me… I will be updating SLY soon! I'm just rushing the chapter and it really sucks… so I need to do some editing. Hopefully I'll get it up this week! **

**Now, I'm starting a new story, simply because this one **_**will**_** be dark-ish. It was inspired by the video game Beyond: Two Souls (if you know of it?). It was released this year I think… the fanfiction has certain parts from the game in it, but it is not loosely based off the game. Most of the plot will be mine. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beyond: Two Souls **_**or **_**How To Rock**

_**Prologue**_

_**Stevie's POV**_

It has always been a struggle for me to fit in… simply because I don't fit in… _anywhere_. I've tried and tried more times than I can count, but I've given up a long time ago. Once people realize how… terrifying I am, they want nothing to do with me.

And I don't really mind it. The quiet thoughts in my head focus more on controlling myself around others, and it's safer for everyone. Let's put it this way: I have a "gift"—I've always seen it as more of a curse than anything else.

No one understands it… not even my family, but they're trying. They don't want to send me away, but this thing is so hard to hide… people become suspicious, and we've moved before because of it. Maybe my family is being selfish, but I don't want to leave them either…

I have the ability to control things, simply through an out-of-body experience. I can see things when others think I can't. I can't read thoughts—my "gift" isn't _that_ terrifying. But I can allow myself to leave my physical body and take control of other things—people, objects, animals.

Well, alright… it isn't me. It's just a part of me…

You see, it isn't really me. It's attached to me… _he_ is. It's a him. He's been with me as long as I can remember. He can't go away, and when I've been told to _make_ him go away, he—Ike, his name's Ike—he gets angry. He destroys things, and it's impossible to stop him. No one can control… not even myself, but he listens to me when I need him most.

Ike can destroy things without touching them, or being near them. Ike can make me do these things too… If I focus hard enough, I can destroy things, but it drains me out quickly. If I'm angry enough, I don't have to focus… that's when Ike loses control, and things blow up or shatter. He feeds off of my emotions. When I'm angry, he is. When I'm calm, he is. When I'm annoyed, he is.

People get hurt when Ike loses his control… when I lose mine…

It hurts when he's far away too. He can't ever leave me, but he can get far away from me, but still be attached. It's dangerous to the both of us though.

He's a gift and a curse.

Let me tell you a little bit about my first victim: _Molly Garfunkel_.

Popular.

It was my first day in a public school—my parents were always terrified of sending me off to public school… they were afraid I would be bullied and outcasted, but I can handle myself because I am both of those things. Bullied and outcasted.

To keep my control, I do my best to ignore it.

Anyway, one day, she cornered me in the middle of the hallway, we were surrounded by everyone, and she started calling me names… and to this day, "Freak" has been the one that's stuck. Everyone calls me "Freaky Baskara". They're too chicken to walk by me in the hallways though, so I'll let them have their fun with names.

It doesn't bother me in the slightest. Ike doesn't understand how I can let it go, and there have been times he's messed with Molly even now. I wish he wouldn't.

Anyway, Molly cornered me in front of everyone and decided to call me names. At the time, I wasn't used to being outcasted or harassed… and I lost control... Ike lost control. He took control of me, and he pushed her away and she flew across the hallway, slamming right into the lockers.

The force gave her a concussion. The damage is unfortunately permanent… she can't speak to this day, but she can listen, and she can read and write. In fact, she's top of the class now, so at least she has that going for her. But since that day, everyone has avoided me, and I like the isolation.

Time to myself for thinking.

My "best friends" are even too scared of me. They don't like to believe I know they're scared, but it's the little actions I notice. They're guarded around me… they try to say as little as possible to me, so as not to upset me. I don't blame them… they don't know about Ike. They don't know he's the one that sends me over the edge.

It's the second to last period of the day—English—and the class is droning on. The discussion is currently on _To Kill A Mockingbird_—our assigned book. Significances and symbols, and themes, I've never been very good at English…

But we have a new teacher this year, and he's very nice. He's intelligent for someone so young, and when I'm tripped in class by other students—laughed at as everyone leaves, or collecting my things _after_ the bell's rung, he talks to me.

I've never been very open with people, but this teacher… he's not at all intimidating, and I feel like he's trying to understand me. He's not the only new one in school this year. There's a boy in the upper grade—senior—who's in most of my elective classes.

Sometimes I go to the library to get away, and somehow he's there too. He sits in the back of the library, and though he's discreet, I've caught him a couple times staring at me… as if he's trying to figure out if he wants to say hello or something. He's probably heard all about me and either 1) doesn't want to talk to me out of fear of what everyone else will think, or 2) he doesn't care what they think, he just doesn't know how to approach me.

I raise my hand, and when the teacher calls on me, I ask, "May I go to the library?"

Due to my condition—and the accident with Molly—the teachers have always allowed me to get away if needed. Sometimes I abuse that privilege, but when you're as screwed up as I am, you understand why that time out of class is majorly important.

The teacher writes me my pass and when I enter the library, I sign my name on the clipboard laying on the desk and immediately walk through the aisles, looking for nothing in particular. Sometimes I find books that interest me, and sometimes I don't. This happens to be one of those times where I don't.

Ike decides to mess around and start dropping books off the shelves, and annoyed, I pick them up and put them back into their rightful places. After about thirteen books, Ike gives up, irritated by my lack of interest in his fun and games.

He's like a normal teenage boy, and he wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't always at my side.

As I pull books from the shelves, one drops behind me, and I turn around quickly, "_Ike, I said enough—_"

But I stop as I see it's the new boy bending down to pick it up. When he stands up straight he slides the book back into its place and says, "My bad. I was walking by and I must've hit it. My name's not Ike by the way," he chuckles.

I mentally groan and I can tell Ike's amused—so it _was_ him that dropped the book. I look at the new boy and say, "Sorry… thought you were someone else. Friend of mine, he likes to annoy me that way sometimes…"

He has dark, curly brown hair and eyes that nearly match. They have a certain sparkle to them, like he's always in a good mood… There's a ukulele strapped around his back—so, he's a music lover—and he's taller than I am. About five or six inches.

He gives me a small half-smile and a shrug and says, "Don't worry, I just hit it by accident or something."

"Do you talk?" he asks curiously, and I know he's not mocking me because his eyes say so. He looks kind, and it seems to me like he's being natural—it doesn't look like he's feigning kindness, or that lost a bet and was made to talk to me.

"Rarely," I respond after a long moment, pushing the book in my hand back into its place on the shelf and moving down the aisle. This boy interrupted my thoughts—not that he knows, but I'm hoping he gets the hint that I'm not looking to be besties.

He follows me anyway, and the sound of his old, scraped-up combat boots against the tile floors following behind me makes my eye twitch. "You're vague…" it's not a question, but a statement, and a true one at that.

"And apparently you're a people reader," I respond tediously, pulling another book from the shelf and then slowly slipping it back into place. If I could find something to read, that would be great, but I guess not today.

"Not really," he shrugs, walking around me and stopping me in my path. I give him a clearly annoyed look and then continue to walk around him, mentally reading off the spine labels of more books. Still nothing.

"I guess you could say I have a gift. I see people I'm told," he replies casually, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his old jacket which smells of cologne, but a considerable amount at least. I wrinkle my nose though, scents have always been strong to me.

I nearly snorted at his words though, but held in the urge instead and replied, "Oh really?"

He rolls his eyes, somewhat amused, and says, "If you're done being sarcastic, then yes. Yes, I really do believe it's a gift. Come with me." He walks out of the aisle and over to the section full of tables and grabs scrap paper off the librarian's desk. Pulling a solid black pen from his bag and a scrap of paper off the pile, he sits and waits for me to come over.

I sigh and walk over to the table—honestly, I'm a little intrigued—and sit down across from him, "What is it you want to show me?"

"Not only do I see people… but I can remember every detail easily. If I observe for only a short amount of time, the information—their quirks and the like, I know almost instantly. You, for example, have an eye with a mind of its own. Every small noise—graphite on a paper the wrong way, the single scuff of a boot—your eye twitches. Clearly small noises bother you."

"Yeah, so?" I ask impatiently, unsure of where he's going with this.

"I can _see _you… I know what makes you who you are… but there's something you're keeping to yourself—I can see that too. I've been watching you the last couple of weeks—" _like I haven't noticed_, I think sarcastically, and he pauses for a moment as his lips twitch into a small, amused smile before it disappears.

"—and there's just something that you're keeping to yourself…" he concludes with a small shrug. I know he wants to say more, but it's almost like he's struggling to say the right thing.

"Well, I'm entitled to having secrets, aren't I?" I retort, sighing. He smiles again, still amused, and then brings his knees up to his chest and places the paper on his lap, a book underneath. Only glancing at me a couple times within ten minutes, he turns the paper around and hands it to me.

My jaw falls open slightly as I take in what he's drawn on the scrap of paper. It's me. I feel like I'm looking through his point-of-view, looking at myself… so maybe he really does have some sort of gift? I hand the paper back to him and regain my edge, "So, you're an artist or something… so?"

He frowns a little and says, "It looks just like you right?"

"Just tell me where you're going with this," I say irritably, resting my head in my hand.

"It takes _focus_ to concentrate on something you really want to do," he says vaguely, raising his eyebrows a little. I stare at him, completely confused—he's stressed the word "focus" though having only said it once, but I still don't know where he's going. So, he drew me… so what?

"Think about it," is all he says as he stands up from the table, stuffing the drawing into his bag just as the bell rings, signaling last period. He gives a small, single wave and rushes out of the library doors, and suddenly I realize I didn't even ask his name… I watch him leave and then think back to the drawing. Somehow the word _focus_ and the drawing tie in with one another, but I can't make the connection he's trying to make. The way he said it, there's something more to what he means.

I decide to skip last period and spend it in the library, arranging books and stamping new ones with the school's information—the librarian is one of the few people that isn't afraid of me, and she has me help her with her work—I don't mind because it keeps me calm.

Last period flies by and I walk to my locker halfway across the school. Brewster is the largest high school in the area, and the school's population is huge, so battling your way halfway across the school would be hard… if people weren't afraid of you and moved as soon as they saw you coming.

I get to my locker and put the combo _18-32-08_ into the lock and pull it open. I throw in the books and folders I don't need to take home and pull out all the ones I do need to, which isn't many considering I skipped three classes today in the library.

As I shut my locker and turn around, I nearly drop my books—it's him again.

"What do you want now?" I groan, tilting my head back.

He ignores my behavior and says, "I have a hunch about something… can you follow me for a minute?" He motions me to follow him and starts walking away, but I stop him.

"Wait—you haven't even told me your name… I'm not following some stranger," I say monotonously, clutching the books that won't fit into my bags tightly in my arms.

He smiles, "Name's Zander."

"Stevie," I reply, finally walking behind him.

"I know that you know I've been watching you closely the last couple of days… sorry for that… word around school is that you're the freaky girl. That can't be true though, you don't freak me out… so why does everyone call you that?"

"You don't want to know what I did to 'earn' the title 'Freaky Baskara'," I deadpan, running my fingers through my hair. I can feel Ike beside me, letting off tension. I can't quite see him—he doesn't have a solid form. I just know he's a him and that his name is Ike… maybe I came up with it when I was younger. I can't remember.

Ike doesn't like this boy before me… he feels threatened.

_Ike, don't even think about doing anything_… I think to myself, knowing he can hear me. I'm trying to focus all my energy on keeping Ike calm. It's peculiar because Ike's never been this way around any guy I've been with before—romantically or not. This boy, Zander, he's just my acquaintance and yet Ike dislikes him.

Part of me feels like Zander notices this shift, because he seems very tense suddenly himself. He clears his throat and leans in close to my ear—Ike becomes unbearable suddenly, and I have to fight the urge to groan as he becomes twice as hard to contain. Zander whispers, "I think I might know what's going on with you, but this isn't one of those places to talk about it… do you know anywhere we can go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply a little too quickly, pulling back. I think about denying further, but that might just really give away that he's right. I shut my mouth and watch as he struggles to say something.

"Right, sorry. Maybe my imagination," he says, turning on his heel and walking away.

I bit my lip and think about calling him back—_what exactly does he think he knows?_—but I don't. I watch him walk away and suddenly Ike calms down. I slouch forward in posture slightly, exhausted at having to hold back all of Ike—he's strong for not being a physical form.

"What was that about?" I snap at him, looking around. I can't find him at first. Out of everyone though, only I can see him. Only I know what he looks like… he's like black smoke, but invisible to everyone else. Sometimes he'll take his true form—the black outline of a man. Several inches taller than me, and maybe a few years older? It's hard to tell when there's no face to look at…

I don't know why I have him at my side… why he's attached to me. He's helpful, but he's also a burden, and I really just wish he would go away. Yes, he's been there since as long as I can remember… but he's causing trouble all the time. He's more of a pain than a help. He can't communicate with me. He can only communicate with me through the use of becoming objects, or other people.

But that takes too much energy out of me for him to do that. I don't understand why I have this gift… why me?

My bag flies open suddenly and all my books and pens and notebooks clatter to the floor. I groan. _Ike, what the hell?_ I think, annoyed. The black smoke stands in front of me, the outline of a man and watches as I bend down to put my things back in my bag.

"Can't you do anything else besides annoy the hell out of me?" I snap to him, looking around to make sure no one is around. I'm already a freak to everyone, so talking to myself will only give them something else to talk about.

Ike's smoky form walks around me and before I can finish cleaning up, Ike steps inside of me and I have no control of myself anymore. He's controlling my body now. My fingers close around a black pen of mine on the floor and then a notebook opens in front of me. Suddenly I'm writing words onto it—well, Ike is.

When he stops writing, he steps outside of my body and suddenly I have control again. I feel lightheaded though and I snap, "You know I hate when you do that!" I can feel the contents in my stomach stirring uncomfortably. When he takes control of me like that, it always has a negative effect on my body.

I rub my temples with my fingers gently to get rid of the dizziness and then read what Ike's written on the notebook: _I don't like him…_

I frown.

"I don't care, Ike…" I move to finish putting everything back into my bag—I couldn't care less about why Ike dislikes Zander, but he takes over again and I find him writing more in the notebook, but not being in control, everything looks blurry from my point-of-view.

It's making me sick again.

When he steps out again, I wait for the spinning in my head and the churning in my stomach to stop before I read what he's written this time: _He's not like everyone else… he's a threat. To both of us._

"Ike, I'm giving him a chance, alright? You're the reason people fear me… Zander hasn't run away yet… at least let me get to know him."

Ike tries to get back inside so he can communicate again, but I put up my mental blocks. One more time and I'll lose everything in my stomach. The tension between us is thick suddenly—he's angry with me, but I don't care at the moment, I'm annoyed with him too.

He can't go away though, so no matter how upset with him I am, he's always right beside me. I've learned to deal with him over the last several years. As a kid, he was great company. It was like he understood me. Now that I'm older—sixteen—he's just a pain. He's moody, controlling, and pushy.

As I—_we_ walk home, I think about Zander. He seemed tense when Ike became tense. Can he see Ike too?

Ike can understand my thoughts, and I know he's becoming angrier and angrier as I think more about Zander, and what our last two encounters meant.

When I get home, the first thing I do is go to my room and lie down in bed. I'm drained from Ike going in-and-out of my body, and the walk home, and just the day in general. I shut my eyes, and as I start drifting off, I can feel the tension between Ike and myself lessen.

He's calm, which could mean I'll sleep longer than I have been lately.

Ike's been unbearable to sleep with. He doesn't sleep… _ever_. He tends to entertain himself while I sleep, but he's been practicing destroying things lately—like the water glasses I take to bed with me at night. He's practicing shattering the glass, and I usually wake up wearing water, or little shards of glass in my hair and face.

Mom's annoyed with the number of glasses that she has to keep replacing. I can't stop Ike though, and she knows that. He doesn't understand how irritating he can be… so I can't blame him for being bored and annoying, but I've lived with him being this way for years now. I can't control him, and it becomes frustrating.

_Just give me a few hours, Ike… go annoy my brothers or something_… I think before I drift off, and for once I think Ike has really listened to me. I don't wake up until about eight o' clock that night. It's the most sleep Ike's let me have in a long time.

**A/N: Okay, so that's the prologue of this story. Interesting? Boring? If you like it, let me know if I should continue :) if you don't, please let me know I shouldn't waste my time on this haha. This is just a little taste into what this story will be. I'm starting it a little faster than most stories I write (you get more of the idea, and the characters, etc.). The story will progress later on if you like it. If not, I won't bother writing it anymore. So, thoughts? I'm going to try to post SLY later!**


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